Undercover songwriter with a potty mouth

I guess I never told you about how we enjoyed our Day At The Spa. Probably because, hello, it's a DAY AT THE SPA and there's very little that can be unpleasant in a day like that.

Sure enough, we both floated out of there. My skin is glowing and my BH smells like peaches (as evidenced by Morty trying to eat his feet whenever possible). And the massages were professional with no S&M involved. It will be a very long time before we can afford to do that again, but it was well worth saving up our gift certificates. Okay, I didn't so much "save up" as I did "lose" my gift certificate, but I found it right on time. DON'T JUDGE.

I'm nearing the end of Christmas shopping, which is great because I have yet to go into an actual store. I'm surprisingly good with Christmas crowds and I am usually patient in lines. But the music? I can't stomach the music. It's usually the worst Christmas shit imaginable and I would much rather be home with my own wee collection of tasteful Christmas tunes. I'm that girl who is cool as a cucumber until someone throws on Mariah Carey wearing a Santa hat and suddenly I start looking for blunt objects.

For the locals: Did you happen to notice the temperature? It's killing me, this cold. I do not pretend to enjoy these winters, but I will say that I am grateful that my rent includes the cost of heat. Even poor Morty has changed his mind about the snow - when the temperature started to plummet, he cut his own walk short and dragged me back home.

Still, while the weather outside is frightful (bwahaha, I am such a cheeseball), I am happy to report that we already have our Christmas tree set up. It's a real tree, and I'm not sure if we'll do it again this way, because it stresses me out a bit knowing that my BH doesn't like having a live (soon to be dead) tree in the house. I think I'll have to invest in a hot pink fake tree and just use fresh wreathes instead. But anyways, the tree is up and it's delightful. The smell alone makes me happy. Morty is scared of it, which shocks no one.

In other news, I am attending a bulldog party this week, featuring bulldogs of all shapes and sizes (mostly of the round and squat variety, though). It's going to be epic.

Those Chinese made plastic trees are horribly unfriendly to the environment ... your own personal one, the one in which they are made and the planet's. They use PVC described by GreenPeace as the worst possible plastic. It is carcinogenic and creates hazardous dioxins during manufacture and disposal. Factor in the environmental cost of transporting all those fake trees from China by air and you can see that buying from a local tree farm is far more responsible ... and safer for kids and bulldogs. All of this from Chatelaine's latest issue.